Fire and Ice
by Ericka Jane
Summary: Lucifer said he wouldn't lie or play tricks. He never said anything about playing fair. Sam says "yes." Dean rips apart heaven and hell to get him back. Angst. Minor hurt!Sam. General season 5 spoilers.
1. Icy Remains

A/N: In case any of you are readers/reviewers of 'Restore the Heroes' I just have to give you a huge thank you. I never expected that kind of response and I really appreciate it. Now I have to note that this is not the way I want things to go, not at all. We just got our first major snow fall and I got hit with inspiration. I hate winter. I hate snow. I guess this is what happened because of it.

Warnings: Very brief language and angst

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"_What'd you say?__  
Oh that you only meant well__  
Well, of course you did__  
What'd you say?  
__Oh that it's all for the best  
__Of course it is__  
What'd you say?__  
That it's just what we need  
And you decided this."_

_-Imogen Heap, 'Hide and Seek'_

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* * *

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**Fire and Ice**_  
Icy Remains_

It happens in the dead of winter. The wind is brutal with its night chill and the light snow flakes stick to skin and hair. Sam doesn't mind, the cold slows his pounding heart.

He wants Dean with him, wants to feel his brother's reassurance and comfort. But Dean isn't there. He isn't even on earth anymore.

Dean is in hell.

Earth had been falling apart at the seams. Lucifer was tearing holes in it, causing death and destruction equivalent to some of the greatest disasters of the past century. Sam and Dean had been fighting it as best as they could, losing people along the way and watching pieces of their faith disappear with every small battle.

That had been in November. It's December now, three days before Christmas.

They didn't mean to find Lucifer. Some times Sam wonders if Lucifer meant to find them. There had been activity in Washington that signaled something big was brewing, ritual big or demon clan big. Sam and Dean chased the lead and found out that it was big alright, Lucifer big.

That fight led to Lucifer using Dean as collateral. He sent Sam's big brother back to hell.

It hadn't been fair and Sam was quick to point that out between sobs, and shouts of anger and pain. He had promised never to lie, never to trick. Lucifer reminded that fairness was never part of the deal.

Sam wondered (and begged, pleaded, and screamed) where the hell the archangels were. Dean was Michael's vessel, the most powerful and most respected archangel in heaven, so where was he? Why wasn't he protecting his vessel? Cas had a theory that they were being held captive with holy oil but he wasn't sure by who. Sam has to believe that if the archangels were able, they would've been there to stop Lucifer from sending Dean back to hell.

He tried to hang on for two weeks. For two weeks he tried to keep the tears at bay and soldiered on like Dean would've wanted. He tried to fight the apocalypse and protect the few precious things they had left. But he couldn't. He couldn't fight when he knew what was happening to Dean in hell. He couldn't _live_. And Lucifer, the conniving son of a bitch, knew that.

That's why he's here, feet shuffling through fluffy snow on empty streets, hands shaking, eyes watering. That's why when Lucifer showed up in his dreams the previous night and said, "You know where to find me Sam, if you're ready," he knew where to go.

Michigan Central Station in Detroit has been empty and closed for over twenty years. Its eighteen stories tower over the streets, looming like a silent monster. Sam enters without a second thought. He can see his breath inside the building as his footsteps echo in the silence. The building is massive with Roman inspired architecture and floor to ceiling windows. Leaves and debris litter the floor, graffiti decorates the walls and the pillars, and foliage grows from a few cracks in the cement. Sam's happy that his last few moments as himself are going to be in some place beautiful.

Lucifer's waiting for him in what used to be the lobby. Hands behind his back, small smile on his face, victory and sympathy all rolled in one. It makes Sam's stomach lurch.

"He'll come back, right? You'll bring Dean back and erase what he remembers of hell?" It's more of a demand than a question and underneath the strength, there's obvious fear in Sam's voice.

"I keep my promises," Lucifer replies easily.

Sam draws as much comfort from the idea of Dean being returned to earth, safe and sound, as he can. He hadn't been able to save his brother from hell the first time. Now, he'd be damned if he let Dean burn if he had any way to stop it. He doesn't want to be Lucifer's meat suit. He doesn't want to let Dean down. He doesn't want it to come down to him against Dean. He doesn't want to die. But more than all of that he doesn't want to face the end of the world, or even the salvation of the world, if Dean isn't there with him. Not again. Not this time.

Lucifer cocks his head and his smile growing bigger.

Sam tears his eyes away from Satan. Outside the wind howls and the snow falls harder. Everything is covered with a thick layer of sparkling white. The pureness of it makes Sam's breath catch. Sam fights the tears that want to falls as he swallows down his terror, and looks back to Lucifer. He knows that it can't be prolonged anymore.

"Will you let me in, Sam? Will you let me carry you to your destiny, what you were born to do?"

Breathe in. out.

"Yes."

* * *

A/N: I highly suggest that you Google Michigan Central Station. It's absolutely breath taking.


	2. Rolling Fire

"_Into your eyes__  
Hopeless and taken  
We stole our new lives__  
Through blood and pain  
In defense of our dreams  
In defense of our dreams_

_We were the kings and queens of promise  
We were the victims of ourselves  
Maybe the children of a lesser god  
Between heaven and hell  
Heaven and hell."_

_- 30 Seconds to Mars, 'Kings and Queens'_

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* * *

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**Fire and Ice**_  
Rolling Fire_

Dean saw first hand what would happen to himself if Sam said yes to Lucifer. He thought that because he knew how much it would destroy him, how much it would hurt, that he'd be a little bit prepared in case it actually happened. He was wrong. Nothing could've prepared him for this kind of pain, this burning feeling of helplessness. He understands now why his future self was the way he was. It's because it doesn't feel like Sam's actually out there somewhere alive, even if he's not the one driving his own body.

It feels like Sam's dead.

Dean remembers the feeling of Sam being dead more than any feeling in the world, more than their dad dying, more than the dark agony of hell. He knows that he could never live with this sort of emptiness and carry on being the person he used to be. He knows that's why he's such a dick in the future.

But that's the future, a future that Dean knows about and is going to prevent at all costs.

Which means he's going to get Sam back.

_Six months ago._

Dean comes to on the floor of an abandoned train station. The first thing he sees is pure, white light exploding inside the building. The windows shatter as they fail to contain the brightness. He curls in to a protective ball as glass rains down on him. He's confused as all hell and admittedly really freaked out.

When everything stills and Dean can hear nothing but the ringing in his ears, he opens his eyes. Immediately he wishes he hadn't. He instantly knows that the person in front of him isn't Sam, not any more. He didn't even need the trip in the future to recognize what Lucifer looks like in his brother's skin. He knows simply because they're brothers.

Lucifer smiles a small sympathetic smile that makes Dean simultaneously want to vomit and cry, "I'm sorry, Dean, but it had to be your brother."

Dean sputters and makes a sound that is almost a word but it comes out more like a dry heave. He can't talk and he has no idea why, and Christ, what happened? Why'd Sam say "yes" and why the hell can't he remember anything? How'd he even get here?

Lucifer tilts his head, a motion so Sam-like that Dean has to look away in fear of completely losing it, "You're still disoriented, it'll pass. Welcome back."

Dean turns back in confusion but Lucifer's gone. Sam is gone.

When he finally pushes himself to his feet, he lets loose a rage that is so desperate and painful that he's sure heaven itself can hear it. That's ok though, Dean wants them to hear it. Anything within range gets destroyed: old chairs and tables, glass, random knick-knacks; all thrown and smashed. Dean's own hand breaks as he pounds the floor when he finally collapses again, tormented sobs ripping out of him. He doesn't know what happened or why but he sure as hell is going to find out, and he is going to fix it.

He finds the Impala a little ways down the block covered in a thick blanket of white snow. Dean considers leaving it there. He knows all he's going to think about while he's behind the wheel is how Sam is supposed to be next to him, and how he probably never will be again. But he doesn't leave it because that's what the Dean in the future did. He gave up, not only on the car, but on Sam too and Dean promised himself that it wouldn't happen like that. So he gets in, even though it hurts like hell.

Dean doesn't even remember the drive to Bobby's; he only knows he got there. His hand pulsed and throbbed with dull heat through the whole drive, and his stomach was knotted tight with permanent sickness, but he made it.

When he stumbles into Bobby's house he is met with the other end of a shot gun.

"Bobby, what are you doing?" Dean asks tiredly. A weird sense of déjà vu passes over him accompanied by a feeling of dread in his gut.

"Silver knife, holy water, you know the drill," Bobby says roughly, his eyes looking suspiciously shiny, "Do it slowly or you'll have rock salt where your face should be."

Dean's eye brows shoot skyward but he does as he's told, taking a swig of holy water that's waiting by the door and making a small cut on his arm with a silver knife. He can't help but think that this routine is getting really old.

"Do I pass?" Dean asks as Bobby lets out a huge sigh and drops the gun.

Bobby rolls closer until he's directly in front of Dean. He reaches up and yanks on Dean's shirt until he stumbles and has no choice but to lean on Bobby before he falls over. Bobby's arms are around Dean tight but the angle's awkward because of the height difference.

"You tryin' to send me to an early grave, boy? You gotta stop doing this."

Dean frowns, pats Bobby on the back and then squeezes his shoulder, "Gotta know what I did before I can stop doing it. I don't remember a damn thing, Bobby. Last thing I remember is being here with Sam…"

Dean chokes on his brother's name and then swallows, because he feels like he's seconds away from losing it again.

"Lucifer tossed you back in the pit," Bobby replies as he pulls back from Dean, his voice and face dark.

Dean freezes, a cold wash of terror sweeping over him like an ocean wave in a storm. It clicks instantly and just like that, he knows what happened. The realization is enough to make him sway on his feet.

"Oh, God..."

Bobby grips Dean's shirt again, tight, "Sit down before you face plant."

Bobby manhandles Dean as best he can to the sofa and Dean stumbles along, sinking ungracefully into the couch cushions.

"He…Bobby, Sam…"

Dean breaks off as his near empty stomach starts to rebel, and Dean puts his head in his hands.

"That stupid, _stupid_, son of a bitch," Dean growls, fresh tears leaking from his eyes, "God _damn_ it."

But as much as he wants to be Dean can't be angry with Sam, not really. In an idealistic world Dean would want Sam to keep fighting the war and keep resisting Lucifer, even when Dean was being tormented in hell for the second time. He'd want Sam to keep living.

But he knows better. He knows now more than ever that Sam can't and won't live without him, and Dean knows he can't soldier on without Sam either. So he can't really be mad at Sam for wanting to end the pain before it began, but he can be mad at Lucifer. And God is he ever pissed at Lucifer, at the angels, at heaven, at hell, at everyone.

"We'll get him back, Dean," is all Bobby says as he puts a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder.

Dean nods and forces himself to believe it because the alternative is too much to think about.

"Now, let's do something about that hand."

After that Dean had to work on keeping hold of his humanity every day. Lucifer never had to send him back to hell because living without Sam was working just fine with the same effect. Without Sam there to keep him sane Dean was a ticking time bomb, a barrel of gun powder with a lit fuse. Some days he could see the life literally draining from his eyes and his expression hardening into stone. On those days he had to physically shake himself out of it. He wasn't going to be that Dean. He wasn't going to be the guy who knowingly sent his friends, his brothers in arms, to their deaths. He wasn't going to be the person who was numb inside and out, the person who had no idea what it was like to live life anymore.

But he needed Sam back. He needed him back now.

Lucifer was hard to track. They'd catch what were possibly blips of him all over the country but they couldn't get a lockdown on him. In some ways Dean was ok with this because he had no idea what he was going to do when he actually found Lucifer. The Colt couldn't kill him, as they found out, and even if it could it wouldn't matter. He wasn't shooting his brother. But they had no way of separating Lucifer from Sam and they had no way of killing him either, or at least, no way of killing him without killing Sam too.

Castiel had suggested one day that he say "yes" to Michael, which Dean answered with his fist, even though it hurt like hell. He was going to find a way to kill Lucifer, get him the hell out of his brother, and keep Sam alive at the same time. And he was going to do it all without being Michael's bitch and ending up as a vegetable. He just wished he knew how.

Month five without Sam brought with it desperation, unimaginable despair, and panic like Dean had never felt before. The world was starting to fall to shambles, crumbling like a tower of Janga blocks, and they were no closer to saving it. They were no closer to saving Sam.

At the end of May Dean tells Bobby he's going to Greenville, Illinois without saying why, leaving a confused and concerned Bobby behind. He makes the ten hour trip in eight and half, not stopping the whole way and pushing the gas pedal as far as it will go. There are a few bad memories attached to this place and usually when there's bad blood between Dean and a town, he stays far away, but there's something here that he needs. He walks through the cemetery and gives an involuntary glance to Angela Mason's grave as he passes. He keeps going until he gets to where he wants to be, where he feels he needs to be.

"Hi, mom," Dean says softly, swallowing as emotion chokes him, "I, uh…I know I wasn't too open about this the last time we were here but things change. I know you're not here, not really, but Dad doesn't have a headstone and well…the family's looking a little small these days."

What Dean means to say is that there's no one left and damn, it hurts. Dean considers Bobby family; the dad that he would've be proud to have had if he didn't have John Winchester. But sometimes Dean needs his own blood, and all that's left to represent that is his mom's tombstone and an empty grave.

Dean sighs and sits down, his back leaning on the grave marker.

"Remember when I was a kid and you first brought Sammy home? I was so pissed. I didn't want a little brother, didn't want to share. I guess most kids feel that way. I remember you telling me that eventually there'd be nothing I'd care about more than my little brother. I thought you were nuts," Dean says with a wet laugh, "You were right though, you always were."

He swallows, "I tried so hard to protect him. I keep telling myself I should give myself a break because the whole fricken' universe was working against us but it doesn't help. Sam was supposed to be my top priority and now…"

Dean breaks down for the first time in months.

"Dean."

The oldest Winchester looks up and sees familiar feet in front of him.

"What the hell are you doing here, Cas?" Dean asks as he wipes his face, angry that the angel caught him in such a vulnerable state.

"I have an idea to get Sam back," Castiel says and then hesitates, "But you might not like it."

"I'm not going to be Michael's bitch, Cas, so don't even…"

"It has nothing to do with Michael," Castiel reassures evenly.

"Then what does it have to do with?"

He doesn't mean to be a dick. Cas has been there through it all and Dean has learned to call him friend, but he's just so tired. He's tired of fighting, tired of trying to hang on to everything that makes him _him_, and tired of losing.

"Holy oil and fire."

Dean gets Sam back in June right in the thick of summer, where it all started. Detroit.

They didn't know if it was going to work. Actually, Dean was willing to bet years in hell that it _wasn't_ going to work. And he was damn scared because there was a chance that Sam wouldn't survive this or at least, that he wouldn't walk away without some serious injuries. Trying to burn someone with holy oil and fire while keeping them alive and relatively unharmed was what normal people would call batshit insane. Today, Dean feels like a normal person.

"Remind me again…"

"If we can burn him long enough to harm Lucifer then he'll be weak enough to be cast back into hell," Castiel says as they stare at Lucifer, at Sam, from a fair distance, "Gabriel and Raphael are waiting. Once Lucifer is out of Sam, Michael will follow him to hell to make sure he stays there. "

"I hate this plan, Cas," Dean says, swallowing as fear, panic, _nonono_ takes over him again. He has to swallow back bile for what feels like the hundredth time since they stepped into Detroit because, God, he's going to purposefully burn his baby brother.

"I know," Castiel replies and then looks at Dean dead on, "But we have to try."

Dean knows and that's what hurts so bad.

He swallows again convulsively, and nods, "Just don't..."

Dean wants to say "don't hurt him," but that's the whole point of this. They can't hurt Lucifer without hurting Sam.

"Don't let him die," Dean finally says roughly, the words coming out like a plea and an order all rolled in one.

It's the worst moment of Dean's life, worse than walking in to see his dad dead in the hospital room, worse than being on the rack in hell, worse than holding Sam's dead body. It's so bad that he wants nothing more than to stop everything and let Lucifer kill him, Cas, and anyone else he wants to, as long as he doesn't have to watch it anymore. He'd even give himself over to Michael or go back to hell, just as long as Sam stopped _burning_.

They didn't completely douse him, they just got his chest, but Christ, it was more than enough. Dean tried to remind himself that it's Lucifer that's in pain right now and not Sam, but it doesn't help. Not when it's Sam's voice screaming.

"Cas," Dean whimpers, and he doesn't even have the strength to be mortified by the sound of his voice, "Stop."

"It won't be enough," Castiel replies softly and Dean can hear the sympathy, the regret in the angel's voice.

Dean snaps his eyes shut and clenches his hands, using every little bit of his fraying will power not to charge his little brother's body and put out the fire.

_Wrong, wrong, wrong_.

"That is enough, put it out," Castiel demands a moment later and Dean's eyes fly open, relief coursing through him like a drug.

Gabriel tosses water on the fire but makes sure to keep the holy ring intact in order to keep Lucifer trapped. Sam's body is twitching and writhing on the ground. Dean tries not to stare at the mess that is his torso.

"If we are lucky Lucifer's powers will heal some of it before he is cast out. If not, Gabriel and Raphael should be able to," Castiel says, his voice low.

Dean's only half paying attention to what Cas is saying. Most of his concentration is on Sam and how he's wriggling in pain but at this point, Dean's not sure if it's from the burns or if it's from the incantation that the two archangels are shouting over his body.

Minutes pass like days, slow and fearful, and Sam's voice screaming in agony is doing nothing but making it worse. Finally, white light explodes from Sam's body, making his eyes and mouth glow and his hair blow wildly. The shockwave of Lucifer being cast back to hell rolls over them like an a-bomb. Dean actually stumbles backwards and half falls from the strength of it.

Then there's abrupt silence, thick and absolute, sounding too much like death. Dean can't help the tears that fall down his face.

"He's alive, Dean," Castiel says as he puts a comforting hand on the hunter's shoulder.

Dean stumbles forward, crossing right over the ring of fire that's still burning around Sam, and hesitantly reaches out to touch his brother.

"Wait," Castiel stops him, "He needs to be healed first."

It takes physical and emotional strength to pull his hand back, to take himself further away from Sam once again. Dean fidgets restlessly as the angels put out the fire ring and cross into his and Sam's space. He tenses as they rest their palms on Sam's damaged chest and then frowns when Sam doesn't even so much as flinch at the touch. Slowly, painfully, the destroyed skin on Sam's upper body seals together and smoothes out to reveal new skin that's still red but _healed_. As soon as the angels back off, Dean moves.

The summer heat is heavy and the air is suffocating with lingering smoke, but it doesn't stop Dean from shivering as he clutches on to Sam like he's going to disappear. It's definitely not enough to make him pull away even when their shared body heat becomes almost unbearable. It feels like a lifetime but eventually Dean feels Sam's arms move up to grip him back and his hands twist in Dean's shirt, hard. Then he rocks Sam as six months of fear, guilt, and being in the passenger seat of his own body comes out as breath stealing sobs.

It isn't until Sam is leaning against him in sheer exhaustion that Dean realizes that Lucifer is back in hell, and that they had won the war. They had stopped the apocalypse. Right after that, he realizes that getting Sam back and getting him back _alive_ is the only victory he really gives a shit about.

Dean still won't let Castiel teleport him so they end up in a motel just inside the Michigan border, right on Lake Michigan. It's late but Dean can't sleep. He's too wired, too emotional, too everything. He finds himself sitting on the bed closest to the door, staring at Sam as he sleeps. Sam's been out for hours, curled on his side facing the door. Apparently being driven around by Satan takes a lot outta you. Dean shivers and tries to erase the image of Lucifer's smile on Sam's face.

Outside the waves crash against the shore and Dean hears a semi roar by on the road. Suddenly there's too much distance between him and Sam. He gets up and lies down on Sam's bed, easing onto his side. He keeps distance between them but he reaches out and twists his hand gently in Sam's shirt.

"Thank you," Sam murmurs sleepily and Dean almost jumps. It's the first thing Sam's said since they've been back together.

"What for?" Dean croaks back.

"For getting him out," Sam replies and shifts just a little bit closer. Dean tightens his hand in Sam's shirt in reply.

"Would never leave you like that, Sammy," Dean replies and watches as Sam smiles gently.

"I know."

"Go back to sleep, we'll talk tomorrow," Dean says.

Sam makes some kind of noise of agreement before drifting back off. Dean watches his face relax, feeling a wash of renewed relief take over him before he follows his brother in sleep.


End file.
